


on loving atlas

by daisuga



Series: you said you wanted to be a greek mythology [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, experimental fic nghgn, this is funny because there's science and mythology both in the story good job me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-02
Updated: 2014-10-02
Packaged: 2018-02-19 15:32:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2393591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisuga/pseuds/daisuga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You were fifteen when you looked at him and took note of the way your heart beating faster, the tingling feeling on the tips of your fingers, the irrational, nervous urge to laugh and smile and touch him. You did touch him, and he flushed and kicked you away, vast repertoire of insults rolling off his tongue, and you wanted nothing more than the feeling of it against your mouth. </p><p>Love has a lifespan of three years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	on loving atlas

**Author's Note:**

> I was trying something new regarding my writing, so here we go!! There would be an accompanying piece to this with feat. Iwaizumi's side, probably.  
> Greek Mythology comparisons? Scientific datas? I love them both, so why not combine them?  
> I am made of shit.

 

 

**_Love has a lifespan of three years._ **

**_Or maybe you have heard that it lasts only for two. Some says that it lasts for four years._ **

 

 

You were fifteen when you looked at him and took note of the way your heart beating faster, the tingling feeling on the tips of your fingers, the irrational, nervous urge to laugh and smile and touch him. You did touch him, and he flushed and kicked you away, vast repertoire of insults rolling off his tongue, and you wanted nothing more than the feeling of it against your mouth. 

Love has a lifespan of three years.

Your heart starts beating faster because there are narcotics being released inside of you, but soon after, like everything else, it will all gradually disappear after you get used to it. You thought it's stupid, how there's a limited substance in you that causes love, and how people kill and cry and suffer because of it. You think about how you believed it was real, how you just knew that love dies out. You remember him staying in your room when you were eight, up until the next day, and after that he shrugs and told you about how when he came back, everything is floating and his mother is no longer there. You think about him not crying.

You said something to him, and he sported a small smile, saying something equally funny in return.

You moved and held his hand. He let you.

 

**_According to Science, love is caused by Phenethylamine (PEA)._ **

**_Its secretion is limited, though, and it's like a syntax error, a rough road that you take._ **  
**_In three years, this syntax error gets resolved._ **

 

 

You were sixteen when you got yourself a girlfriend.

You feel like you're the only one who's conscious of it--how your time to be together was reduced to talking during training about plans and schedules, how you don't even eat lunch together anymore, how the only time you had a real conversation was that one friday, exhausted after finishing practice, breathless, saying, _hey, how are you?_

It went unnoticed, at first, but when Hanamaki approached you during lunch asking for Iwaizumi's whereabouts, it took you five minutes to say "I don't know," heart beating fast, realization dawning upon yourself, wide-eyed. You never said that before. You always knew where to find Iwaizumi; you always knew what he's thinking, where he is, if he has a meeting or not. This bothered you greatly; Eight years of friendship, and that's the first them where you said "I don't know" to something that involved Iwaizumi.

Your girlfriend noticed. She noticed how you played volleyball harder; she noticed it with every rejected, with every half-assed affections, with every "Where are you?" "At the gym."

You were never meant to be like this, anyway--you were selfish, you knew. You could never hold the world up for someone else. You could never give up something like your liberty and freedom for someone; you cannot be chained. You were meant to fly, meant to be dancing with the stars and the sky. You do not stop for anyone, do not fly low, do not go back.

Approximately four days after the break-up, you waited for him outside his house, for the first time. It was always him who picks you up, but there you were.

He looked surprised, for a second, and you caught the rare moment where sleep was slowly vanishing from his eyes, clearing up as he blinked, dark hair still slightly damp, hands in the middle of fixing his tie.

"Rough break up, eh? Why am I not surprised?" was what he said, playful and amused and you detested the way you felt your nape heat up, heart throwing a riot inside of your ribcage. You hands itched to touch, so you did. You took his hand, pulled him out to the road, whining, "So mean, Iwa-chan," despite the grin on your face that you absolutely can't wipe off.

You do not stop for anyone, do not fly low, do not go back. _Except--_

He laughed, a low, rumbling sound, and your mind stopped, breath hitching, amber eyes peering up curiously, _Iwa-chan, stop being so amazing_. 

\--Except for him.

 

**_Apparently, once people get pre-occupied with something other than love,_ **

**_they waste no time in ending it, despite how fast or deep they fell.  
_ **

 

 

"You're like Atlas, Iwa-chan."

He looked at you, eyebrows furrowed, "Huh?"

You were second years, the summer heat mercilessly dropping its rage on the whole goddamn Miyagi prefecture. You're studying, properly for once, Iwaizumi going through his maths and you going through your mythology. The black, pocketbook-sized book was lent to you by him, dog-eared at some pages, the spine showing marks, creases on the edge of the cover. You try not to be distracted by the sight of Iwaizumi wearing his glasses.

 

 

> The etymology of the name  _Atlas_  is uncertain. Virgil took pleasure in translating etymologies of Greek names by combining them with adjectives that explained them: for Atlas his adjective is  _durus_ , "hard, enduring".

 

Iwaizumi is like Atlas, you thought. The celestial spheres rests upon his shoulders, broad and familiar, standing upon the edge of everything and nothing, all at once. He's unlike you--he brings the world, supports it with his being, never dropping it. Iwaizumi never falters, moving on but stopping, once in a while, looking over his back, extending a hand, _"It's not over yet"_. You want the world in your hands, and yet you're too weak, too preoccupied to hold it, but you want it anyway, and he knows that, so he does not only gives it to you, he carries it for you. Sometimes--sometimes you wonder why he stays, wonder why he don't just drop the sky, letting it roll, letting it fall apart and melt to the floor. 

 _You're too good for me_ , is what you wanted to say. _You're too good_.

"Nothing, Iwa-chan."

 

**_Hey everyone, did you know?_ **

**_Love only lasts for three years, before we get used to our partners._ **

 

 

You were seventeen when you clipped your fringes back, pen twirled by your hand, pastel pink sky outside.

"Iwa-chan, do you know that love lasts only for three years?"

Iwaizumi shot you an irritated glance, but stayed silent. A prompting.  _Continue talking_.

"Apparently, when you're near someone you like, the fast beating of your heart is caused by the narcotics being released inside of you," You said, extending and arm to poke his chest, before he slapped it away. "but then it after three years, you get used to it and the narcotics won't be released anymore."

He scratched out a solution, then looked at you.

You smiled.

"So, Iwa-chan, do you like someone right now?"

 

 

**_Listen, Science says so, right?_ **

 

 

Iwaizumi and you met as children; you with your embarrassing alien phase and him being the rough kid that always comes home bearing bruises and scratches, but never crying. 

You don't remember how you met, exactly, but you remember how radiant Iwaizumi was despite being covered in mud. You remember crying after tripping on a branch, but stopping the moment he fixed you up. You remember alien band-aids, the green forest, the mud, his hands pulling you out of it.

You remember feeling, seeing stars in his eyes.

You wonder what that makes you.

 

You learned about it in middle school, watching the television, _it only takes three years to fall out of love_. 

You wonder why you immediately thought of Iwaizumi.

 

**_Though, is Science always right?_ **

**_Do you ever wonder how they found it out?_ **

 

 

You remember being fifteen, remember Kageyama, remember not going home the same time as Iwaizumi because he stayed well even after training to spike for Kageyama. You remember the thumping of your heart, the push and pull of your veins. You remember seeing red and black and white, thousand knots in your stomach, a wildfire in you gaining intensity. You remember being ugly, feeling ugly--you remember the way Iwaizumi's hand tightened on your arm, the snapping sound of something that's probably the realization of Iwaizumi as your saviour, as your support.

Think Atlas. Think shoulders.

You remember Ushijima, the sneers, the _five minutes more, Iwa-chan_ , that you both know is something that translates into an unspoken plea. You remember sixteen and being promised to. You remember the _wherever you go, I'll probably follow_ , the reassuring warmth, legs tangled, hands pressed against tear-stained cheeks, _hey, Oikawa, I'm here_.

Think Prometheus. Think Saviour.

 

* * *

 

"So, Iwa-chan, do you like someone right now?"

"Shut up," was the reply, along with flushed cheeks and scratching of the nape. Oikawa laughed, but the magnitude of his heart shaking in him is incredible. 

"So you do! It's written all over your face, Iwa-chan."

Iwaizumi only stared at him, eyes deep and contemplating, and Oikawa stopped short. It's amazing, sometimes, how beautiful Iwaizumi can be. He has the rough kind of pretty face--a sculpture, a painting, Atlas carrying the spheres. 

"What about you?"

"I do," Oikawa breathe out, snapping out of his reverie, smiling softly, solemnly, folding his arms and resting his head on it. "but it's one-sided."

 

"You and I both, Iwa-chan, in three years, we'll be in love with an another person anyway."

"That's...kind of--"

"Science says so, right?"

 

* * *

 

 Love's lifespan is only three years, but if you think about it, it's now their graduation day, and the third year already passed a long, long time ago. 

Oikawa leans on the rails, looking down the school grounds. The people down there are already scarce, only a few staying, walking around the school, whispering soft goodbyes, picking up the pieces of themselves that they left somewhere in this area. Landscapes flashes over and over in his head; classrooms, gym, grounds, rooftop, and his heart skips a beat.

With every landscape he envisions himself in, there's only one constant factor that stays the same through it all.

The third year already passed a long, long time ago.

And still it hurts, in him--a dull, throbbing pain that spreads under the skin. 

He thought that it'll pass; that soon the feelings will fade away, like the photos in the attic, like the way Iwaizumi's mother faded away, like whiteboard markers against plastic.

He looks down, wet drops falling, warm, sniffing. 

What if it doesn't fade away? 

What if it stays? Wouldn't it be better if he had told him that he loved him from the start? From the very beginning?

He hears a sigh from behind him, and he already knows who it is; but still, he quickly turn around, eyes widening, taking in the glory that is Iwaizumi, in front of him, perfect and illuminating and all he can think of is _I love you, I really love you_. All he can think of is how Iwaizumi seems to be always there at the right time in the right place at the right moment with the perfect words. He stares, tears cold against his cheeks, March breeze awfully cold.

"Hey." Iwaizumi calls, stepping forward, slightly. He smiles at Oikawa as if saying,  _I don't know what to do with you_ , and Oikawa thinks, _me too_. He's a mess, a wreck, and Iwaizumi is that one miracle that Oikawa will always believe in, because time and time again he proves everything wrong, proves it by being selfless, by holding up the sky over his shoulders, by letting Oikawa hold his hands selfishly.

"What do I do if I've been in love with someone for more than ten years?"

His eyes widens, breathe stuttering, brain reeling, thinking, thinking, thinking--

He thinks about it, thinks about the way Iwaizumi has always held him, thinks about the way he always holds him. Thinks about how he stayed, think about how he still will. Thinks about the cylinder in his hand, and in Iwaizumi's hands, light yet heavy at the same time. Thinks about the cherry blossoms falling, the sky being a ridiculous shade of primary cyan, now, the blackness of it slowly descending, pressing against him, against them. Thinks about the silence, the whispers of goodbye emitting from everyone including Iwaizumi and him and the school. Think about the future.

Thinks about how pathetic his cry of "Hajime" is as he surges forward, crashing against him, Iwaizumi's arms enveloping his frame, whispers of _goodbye_ turning into _always_.

Thinks about how Iwaizumi's pressing his lips against his, ten years, I love you, repeating again and again with every touch.

Thinks about how Science aid that love is only supposed to last for three years, but thinks about how he's never been that good at Chemistry anyways, and how Iwaizumi flunked an experiment once.

 

 _Atlas,_ he thinks, holding Iwaizumi close, pressing foreheads, laughing.

 _Enduring_.

_Ten years._

_I love you._

 

Iwaizumi is bright, warm. He thinks of the future, and only sees him. He is brighter and warmer than all the sun and the moon and the stars, precious and irreplaceable, iron support and the word "always" and "forever" personified, materialized. An anti-thesis, a constant truth, after-image of perfection, beautiful and lovely. He's the silence at four am, the words you can't express at every creative writing project, the rising of the sun and the setting of it, the merging of two galaxies to create a bigger, more beautiful one, and Oikawa wants so much to dance through his stars and drink stare at his magnificence. 

 

It's about time that Oikawa's wings melt off. It's about time that he hold up the sky along with him.

**Author's Note:**

> the credits didn't go through the first time :"( but t's heavily inspired and mostly based on gusari's work, Aru Kagaku no Shoumei! the premise got me a lot interested and tried my hand on writing something based on it :^) please read that knb doujin as well!


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